I was a servant to the Television—religiously consumed by the channels, by the same series on repeat, and yet through my recuperation it was precisely TV that was my salvation. Every morning I rose, I was stiff, I was in pain, but i didn’t have to move much. The bed I slept in through this time conveniently faced the television, so with no real movement required, I would grab the remote as if it held my golden ticket to the Fiji Islands on the Travel Channel, a plate of culinary master piece on the Food Network or the winning seat on the Price is Right.
After a few months of nothing but television and the occasional break to the bathroom and to eat, the images all faded together, like impressions of dreams I once dreamt. The channels began to all mold together– as if somehow after a while, they were all just one channel, one episode during one eternal day.
In retrospect I don’t know what I would have done without the convenience of that TV. It gave me a much needed escape and put me in so many other places.
But once I started to feel better, and was able to move a little more, I was no longer able to watch TV the way I did during this time of recuperation. In fact till this day, I still think twice before I turn it on.